


Pendulum

by Elevensins



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post Film
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1558190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elevensins/pseuds/Elevensins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning:  Body Horror involved in some retelling of Bucky's transformation.</p></blockquote>





	1. Room Service

She found him in her hotel room, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the floor. He'd stolen a jacket from somewhere, holding it around him tightly with one hand. He also wore a cap over his head with the brim pulled low. She knew him immediately though, and lingered near the entrance to the bathroom with a hand on her pistol. So long as he made no threatening moves, she left it holstered. Something about his posture did not indicate he meant her harm. At least not immediate harm. She knew what that arm could do, though, and wasn't about to stand in lunging distance. 

"Hey," she said, her chin tilting regally, "So what kind of call is this? Still on your mission to eliminate me, or is there some other reason you've broken in here and made yourself at home?"

He lifted his head and that's when she drew her pistol, aiming it with the middle of his forehead in mind. Right where there was a crease in the cap. He just stared at her, the hollows of his eyes dark and blank. Then the corners of his lips twitched up, down, as if the nerves of his face were revolting. When he finally spoke, his voice was a dull monotone barely loud enough for her to hear. "You know him. You know who he is."

"Well, I know who you are, too," she replied. Her nose wrinkled, the scent of him carried to her and it was rank. Old sweat and tobacco and refuse. He'd likely slept outside and stolen the jacket and cap off some homeless guy and done only god knew what in the months that followed Hydra's re-emergence. "And I'm surprised your handlers haven't called you back to them yet."

"Most of them are dead. No prime directive anymore. No one commands me now." 

She remembered Pierce's final words and finally lowered her gun. "What do you want?"

His face went blank again, eyes darting toward the floor. "I want to know who I am. Who he is to me."

Natasha Romanov had not survived as long as she had by underestimating anyone. Yet the way he stared at the ground instead of her, holding the jacket around himself like a wounded bird... she holstered her pistol and slipped into the bathroom, grabbing two glistening white towels. She tossed them both to him and smirked as they smacked into him and he didn't even try to catch either, watching them fall onto the bed and floor. "Get a shower. Then we'll talk."

He looked up at her again, frowning. So she walked up to him, leaned over and grabbed at his hands. She managed to close a hand around his human wrist, but he wrest the metal one away from her and hissed in pain, teeth bared. She stared back, not even flinching. He reminded her too much of a wounded animal, and even the slightest hint of fear would change dynamics.

"Look, you smell like a landfill right now. And I am not going to endure that while we have any kind of meaningful conversation. So go into the bathroom, peel off that gross outfit, and get clean. Then, we talk. Got it?"

At that, he stood up wordlessly, grabbed the towels and walked into the bathroom. She could hear him moving around, then the sound of the shower turning on. Curiosity compelled her to pry the bathroom door open slowly and peer inside. The shower curtain was closed, she could see steam rising above the curtain rod, but it was opaque enough not to see his shape behind it. Meaning he wouldn't see her looking in either. On the floor was the jacket and cap, along with the polymer armored suit he'd been wearing. No weapons that she could see. Not even knives. 

"Did you intend to join me?" he asked. Was that a hint of a sense of humor? 

She had to bite back a laugh. "No, just making sure you aren't using my razor. They're expensive, no touchie for that carpet on your face." 

"Noted."

Chuckling, she closed the door again to let him finish and headed for the telephone. He looked like shit, smelled like shit, and probably hadn't eaten shit in weeks. 

"The things I do for you, Steve," she muttered to herself, and dialed the number for room service.

By the time the bathroom door finally opened, Natasha had draped herself over a chair near the window. The text to Clint was half finished, but she tucked the phone into her pocket anyway and folded her hands in her lap. "If you're naked, I promise not to laugh."

She studied him wordlessly as he emerged and stood there, staring back at her. The cap and jacket were missing, for which she was grateful. If he hung around long enough she might find a way to ditch them in the nearest trash receptacle. The dark circles under his eyes were still present, his hair wet but obviously still matted and he'd put the body armor back on, even as the metal arm hung abjectly at his side. Damaged, perhaps, which made him not quite as dangerous. 

She tilted her chin at him, "What's wrong with your arm?"

"I don't know for sure. I have no one to look at it," he replied. 

Somehow Natasha didn't quite believe that. Somewhere, there were Hydra agents who'd love to get their hands on him again. That thought brought a smile to her lips. "You know, I might just know of someone who could help you. Someone who knows Steve, too."


	2. Anarchy X

She had been dreaming soundly. Something about a white beach, a strange green sky in the distance. The clink of glasses behind her and the sound of Tony’s voice calling her name. It was the sound of her name that woke her. Pepper lifted her head slightly from her pillow, blinking sleepily in the darkened room. Morning, she sensed, but the blinds were still drawn and any sunlight beyond them was weak at best.

Tony sat on the edge of the bed, the glow of his cell phone illuminating his face softly. She knew that wide eyed, fascinated look. The same expression he wore when he had a eureka moment down in his workshop. She sighed quietly to herself.

"What time is it?"

"Six in the morning." He didn't even turn around to look at her, typing away at a message on his phone. "Pepper, I—"

"Tony, no."

"Yes! Why can’t you just say Tony yes, just once."

Pepper’s head tilted as she sat up in bed, shaking her head at him and reaching out to smooth some of his tousled hair. “Because whenever you get that look in your eyes, I’m about to tell you no to something.”

Tony’s full attention was submerged in his phone, and whatever image had been sent to him, waking both of them up abruptly “Ok… well, you can explain to Natasha why I can’t help her fri— hey!”

Pepper snatched the phone from his hand. “Why didn't you say it was Natasha? Wait… what is this?”

She turned the phone to its side to get a better view of the picture there. A metallic arm glinted, reflecting the light in whatever room where the picture was taken. She didn't recognize the design, or the red star emblem. Stark Industries was not, as far as she knew, involved in the creation of cybernetic arms like that.

Tony reached over the plucked the phone from her hands, “It’s an arm. A metal one.”

"I could see that, but, whose arm?"

"Friend of Cap’s, apparently."

Pepper rolled over and kicked her heels up, lying on her stomach next to Tony, propped up on her elbows. He held the phone out so she could hold half of it while he pointed a finger at the images of the arm. “This, I am told, is so advanced I couldn't have even conceived of anything like it.”

Pepper sighed, “Well played, Natasha. Play to Tony’s ego, he’ll never be able to say no.”

He fixed her with his best puppy dog eyes. “You know I have to see it now, right?”

Bumping his shoulder, she started to roll away. “Fine. But only on one condition.”

He reached out to grab her wrist and reel her back in toward him. Tossing the phone over his shoulder, he leaned in to kiss her. It was one of his enthusiastic kisses, the ones he always gave her just after a moment of clarity that would keep him down in his workshop for hours.

When they finally parted, she continued, “I get some time with Natasha. Without you around.”

"Kinky," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. Then he threw his hands up as Pepper reached back, grabbed a pillow and thwacked him with it.

____________________________________

"Nothing," Sam sighed from down the hallway. Steve met him back at the rendezvous point, which was the corridor they first entered on breaking into the facility. "Hastily abandoned, there’s a lot of equipment still here. Couldn’t turn it on though, probably took the time to wipe it clean before they left."

Steve nodded, “Anything to indicate they had any way to hold Bucky here?”

"Negative. If they did, they did a fine job of removing it before fleeing. And as fast as they dropped everything, wiped computers clean, and ran? Not likely. They would have left it along with the office furniture. I mean someone left a Pop-Tart out in the break room. It’s pretty ugly looking at this point."

Steve chuckled, even if he wasn't quite feeling the humor. It was the second facility they’d searched. This one was at least recently abandoned, probably about the time Hydra re-emerged. The first one they looked through had obviously been left empty for a few years.

"Well, where to next?" he asked.

Sam pulled out his phone, swiping his finger over the screen a few times. ”Well, according to all the records pulled from the internet, there’s one more place big enough to house the kind of equipment and personnel needed to house someth— someone like Bucky. It’s in Illinois.”

Steve let the slip of tongue slide, knowing Sam had not meant it that way. All the information they had on Bucky referred to him as an asset, a thing, a tool, a weapon. The person was entirely erased.

"You know, Steve," Sam said as he put his hand on Steve’s shoulder to get his attention. "Your friend might not be in their hands. He didn't finish his mission, they can’t be happy with him about that. Maybe he’s not at any of these facilities?"

Steve considered this again, Sam had brought it up before. He looked up, squinting into the morning light as dawn crawled above the horizon. ”Problem is, that doesn't leave me much of an idea of where to even look for him.”

"Ever think of going home?" Sam asked. "I mean, back to where you two grew up. If he remembered you, if the guy you know from your childhood were to retain any of those earliest memories. Well, I’d go somewhere I felt like I knew the terrain."

Steve blinked a few times, staring at Sam as if he’d just had the revelation of the century. ”That’s brilliant. Yeah, he might be wandering around in Brooklyn even now. Good lord, Sam, why didn't we think of that earlier.”

Sam practically beamed, folding his arms over his chest as he shrugged his shoulders. ”I did bring it up once. Kind of. Just hadn't really thought about where I’d go if I were a guy with a metal arm who’s memories had been screwed with for decades til now.”

Steve opened his mouth to answer when his phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out, realizing it was another message from Natasha. She’d left him one earlier just as they were about to enter the facility and he’d ignored it then. ”Natasha’s trying to get hold of me… oh… Sam, you were totally right. She’s found Bucky in Brooklyn, she’s taking him to Stark.”

"Well," Sam said as he opened the door to their rental, "Guess we’re heading back East. Not a moment too soon."

\------------------------------------

Dust kicked up in the wake of the vehicle that carried Captain America and his companion away from the facility. He watched on monitors until finally the pair were long gone and not likely to return. Only then did the operative allow the power to kick back on again, bringing to life the computer system in the basement crawlspace he'd hidden in.

It wasn't glorious, but he wasn't about to take on a super soldier. Hydra had left him there for months with barely a word said to him. Just the expectation that if anyone came along to check out the supposedly abandoned facility that he'd make sure they never left. It was his one job, and he'd failed at that.

He composed the message swiftly, careful to use Hydra's own brand of encryption on top of the electronic program used to securely deliver internal memos.

_Asset is located in Brooklyn. Being taken to Stark. Targets Captain America and The Falcon en route. Target Black Widow with asset. Advise?_

He waited for only a minute before the reply returned. He opened it as he heard something clank heavily above him. Odd. His brows furrowed as he realized the circulation had cut out, air falling still.

_Prime will take over from here, Operative. You have served Hydra well. Two more will take your place._

He barely had time to digest the message when he began coughing uncontrollably. There was no smell to the gas that silently pumped into the room. Only the inevitability of death.


	3. War is Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Body Horror involved in some retelling of Bucky's transformation.

_"It takes a lot of work and a lot of money to fix up a guy's arm. This is a war and war is hell and what the hell and so to hell with it. Come on boys watch this. Pretty slick hey? He's down in bed and can't say anything and it's his tough luck and we're tired and this is a stinking war anyhow so let's cut the damn thing off and be done with it."_ - Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo

He was back in the lab again. The place where he could remember being born, into whatever life he had now. Pain, such pain on waking. They were taking his arm. 

_Someone was taking his arm off._

They'd numbed him mostly. He could feel the vibration of the saw slicing through flesh and muscle and bone. Scream. He wanted to scream but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but whimper. Someone noticed, the injection that numbed him dragged him back down into the darkness of unconsciousness.

He woke again and remembered, his arm was gone. They'd really taken it from him. Oh god why, what was so wrong with it that they had to take it off. Pain exploded in his shoulder, where the nerves pulsed with every heartbeat. Yet, he could still feel. His arm, his hand, he could even move his fingers. He'd heard about this once. War is hell, good men lose limbs when they stand up to the enemy. The damn jerrys and their weapons and their labs and... yes, he'd been in a wartime lab once. 

Arnim Zola, with that unwavering, smile that never touched beady little eyes under so much forehead. The needle that glinted in the light. But that was over, Steve had found him there and pulled him off the table.

Steve. Where was Steve? Wait, who was Steve?

He can smell Zola again. The familiar scent of aftershave and formaldehyde. He opens his eyes and lifts his hands.

Oh god, his hand. What have they done to his hand? His arm? What is this thing attached to him?

Dr. Zola leaned over him and smiled. 

He woke with a start, sitting up so abruptly Natasha had a gun trained on him in a second. The nerves in his shoulder screamed and throbbed and he grabbed the broken arm and held onto it as if that might somehow stem the tide of pain. 

"What's going on? You all right?" Natasha asked. She had turned and shoved herself back against the door to their vehicle, both pistols trained on the Winter Soldier just in case. 

He set his forehead against the window. It was cool against his skin, and he could hear the patter of raindrops. Outside the skies were overcast and had eventually opened up. Everything was silver mist and fog outside the car. He could barely see the yellow parking lot lines or lampposts. 

"I'm ok," he finally answered. He wasn't, but there was nothing either of them could do about it right then and Natasha was taught as a wire. 

She watched him suspiciously for a few heartbeats and then finally lowered the pistols, crossing them in her lap. "You were dreaming. About Zola. Said his name a few times. And Steve's."

"I don't remember." And he didn't, only vague and shadowy images as his dream receded into the murky soup that was his memory and refused to be called forward again. 

She shrugged her shoulders and decided not to pursue it. "Stark should be here soon. Said we'd know it's him when we see him."

"What time is it?"

"Just after one in the afternoon. Oh, and look, I think I see headlights."

Bucky lifted his head, staring into the mist as two headlights appeared across the parking lot. Natasha holstered her pistols and unlocked the car doors. She climbed out but stood there with her door open, just in case. The scent of cool rain on hot pavement grew more pungent.

Stark's vehicle was a monstrosity. Huge and clunky and obviously armored and possibly even weaponized to the teeth. It was black, with riveted panels and dark windows. For a moment Bucky wondered if it really were him, or if this were Hydra coming to take him away again. But the Stark Industries logo was clearly visible on the armored car's side doors as it pulled in beside their rental. 

The door opened and for just a heartbeat Bucky saw another man from another time. But this couldn't have been Harold Stark. Of this Bucky was certain, though he couldn't think of why.

"Hey hey, come on, let's get moving before we become targets," Tony said gesturing for both of them to climb into the vehicle. 

Natasha slammed her car door shut. "Let's go, Bucky. Our ride's here."

With no more reason to hesitate, Bucky opened up his door and stepped out into the rain.


	4. Not a Nurse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter was a bit inspired by Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie’s hilarious dialogue about Captain Tiny-ass.)

"Steve, you can avoid the elephant in the room all you want. But eventually you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that your friend is never going to be the same guy you knew back in the 1940s."

"I know that, Sam."

"I don’t think you do. I think you’re telling me, and yourself, that, but I don’t think you really get it at the core level."

Sam pulled his sunglasses up briefly, resting them on top of his head as he side eyed the man in the passenger’s seat. Steve had gone quiet again, glancing out the window as the terrain turned from countryside to suburbs. They were nearing the rendezvous point to meet up with Stark and the closer they got the more anxious Steve became.

Steve had a more subtle way of showing it, but Sam was trained to notice the signs of stress. The way his mouth formed that thin line, the crease of his brows and a hand clenched at his side. There were a lot of thoughts going on inside Captain America’s head. It worried Sam a little bit, even if Natasha brushed it off.

"He’s seriously like Teflon," she remarked once, "Something might stick to him briefly but eventually it washes right off." 

Sam agreed with her, to an extent. Steve had an uncanny ability to just adapt. But he knew that even Teflon had a habit of peeling eventually.

Setting the sunglasses back over his eyes, Sam concentrated on the road ahead. Silence stretched between them, he could practically hear Steve’s gears turning. 

"So," he started, trying to think of some method of distraction, "We’ll get to see Natasha again. Maybe she’ll try to hook you up with one of Stark’s secretaries or something."

It worked, Steve chuckled, shaking his head briefly. ”She’s got a one track mind, I’ll give her that.”

"There some reason you've been resisting her?"

Steve shrugged his shoulders, getting thoughtful again. ”No, just… no time. Too much to do working for SHIELD before, and after that, well, you and I have been running around everywhere. I mean, I just don’t quite understand the pressure anymore. What’s wrong with not being with someone?”

He was looking at Sam now, askance in his expression. Sam thought about it for a moment, pondered a serious answer and then just grinned. “You know, you should watch what you’re saying about that. The minute you stop looking is when someone’s going to just fall into your lap.”

Steve laughed, but Sam continued, “Man, I’m serious. Every friend of mine who’s ever given up on the whole dating thing was married within a year.”

"Just like that, huh?" 

"Just like that, my friend. Though honestly, more seriously, I think you gotta be comfortable with yourself first. And you aren't, to be honest. Here you are, a man out of time, with a body that does not quit, even if your ass is a bit small, and you still act like you’re that ninety-eight pound guy everyone stepped on."

Steve’s brows furrowed just a bit, that crease in his forehead standing out. He even twisted in his seat a bit, glancing down where the seatbelt buckled. ”Look, just because your ass is huge does not mean mine is—”

"Oh no, no do not go there, Mister. And since when do you even use words like ass? I don’t think I have ever even heard—"

Steve was laughing so hard at that point he’d lowered his face into his hands and his body was shaking. Sam grinned as he turned down another street, the mechanical female voice of his GPS app instructing him to drive another half a mile. Tony had given them ridiculous directions, directly sent to Sam’s phone. 

"Seriously though, you listening?"

Steve rubbed at his eyes and nodded. He was still grinning. 

"Good. Thing is, you aren't used to being who you are yet. I can see that pretty clearly in how you act around people when you aren't being Captain America. You’re great when we need a leader, Steve. But you don’t know shit about talking to anyone socially."

Steve’s smile faded slightly, absorbing everything Sam said before he nodded. ”Erskine had one request of me before he died, Sam. Not to ever forget who I was before the serum.”

"So? Don’t become an egomaniac like Stark. Doesn't mean you can’t learn how to talk to people like a normal human being."

Steve finally looked at him, that half-smile on his lips and blue eyes full of genuine affection and appreciation. ”Thank you, Sam. I appreciate your honesty.”

"So, you gonna call that nurse, now?"

Steve just sighed, “She’s not a nurse.”


End file.
